Victoria
by Jena
Summary: Not exactly about a Jane Austen book, but(hopefully) written in her style! Please R/R!


Romantics tend to be people either very much in want of a lover, or very much in want of excitement, or both. To be romantic, you need not only be "yearning for love", but to have a passion for all things beautiful, or dramatic. You must indeed, have a dramatic flair, or wish you had one, yourself. This story may be about a romantic, or to be read by romantics. Either way, it's written, and there's no stopped some drama.  
  
Victoria Flair lived astoundingly up to her name, as uncommon as it was. In such a society as this, such a name was supposed to have been made up, or used for extremely vexing purposes. Hers was not, as her father had a flair, and was named for it, she had it also. Flair, such as romance, it not such a dramatic business, for many a times only beauty can have flair, either from a twinkling eye, or a impertinent toss of the head, an acknowledged swing of the hips. It is a simple gesture that is knowingly or unknowingly made up into much more.  
  
Now, for the girl herself, who came from a nice, pleasant, well- contented family, whose parents were still much in love, romance was inevitably bred into her. She had very sharp features, not sharp in a cruel or ugly way, just not subtlety beautiful, but sharply so. Her hair was of many different colors, mainly of a reddish blonde quality, and her eyes were a striking green. Her whole appearance was, at first glance, indefinitely beautiful. But not in the delicate, faint way of other ladies, with a timid blush rising in their cheeks and skin a creamy color, all seeming to daintily flow from one feature to the next. No, dainty and timid were not the words to describe Victoria's presence. Striking, prominent, eye-catching, out of the ordinary, nothing of your inconspicuous small females, she was a picturesque beauty, and not so good tempered as her other timid counterparts.  
  
She wasn't vain, a little proud indeed, but who isn't. She was a very good sort of person, just not subtle as females were thought ought to be. She was indeed the opposite. When she talked, she never curved around by compliments and little cozies like other women. Instead she was right to the point, straight forth and explicit. She spoke and did things only when she wanted, if she wanted to laugh, she laughed, not waiting to find out if improper at the time. She was of a rare race that followed their instincts constantly, and without a doubt. A very good kind of race this is, but very irritating to one of the opposite personality.  
  
Who, by the way, was her Aunt Beatrice. Beatrice was the very picture of femininity. She was calm, rational, and quiet, except when dealing with Victoria. Victoria was like a wild lioness to her, someone to be tamed and put right. She was always trying to get Victoria to act properly, and not go into swoops of mirth over a new love, and instead to settle down modestly and contently. So it was no surprise that on a fair spring day, while Victoria was reading a very exciting book indeed, that Aunt Beatrice walked in with no air for folly.  
  
"Vicky, if I have told you once, I have told you a hundred times. Do not sit so on that lovely lounge. Young ladies aren't meant to be sprawled about all over the place like a field hen. Sit up straight with your hands in your lap, there's a good girl."  
  
Victoria simply glanced up from her book and raised an eyebrow the whole while her aunt was talking, and took no further notice. For Aunt Beatrice was a most busy woman, and not one to idly chat when there were more important things to do such as the present fact that a small pile of books were out of order.  
  
Finally turning out the door to leave, she caught a glimpse of Victoria, still 'sprawled' so unladylike on the lounge.  
  
"Victoria Selena Flair, please sit up straight! Sir William, as you no doubt know, has traveled all the way from ___side to honor your father with a visit. He seems to be a very handsome fellow, which I'm sure you can have no objection of, and I beg of you to give him your best possible impression. Which you can not do in this vulgar manner and being completely barbarious." Aunt Beatrice ended with a strong huff and a sturdy nod of her oh so determined head.  
  
Upon this Victoria put her book down on the side table, sat up, stretched her arms widely and yawning, settled her hands upon her hips.  
  
"My dear Aunt Beatrice, you should have known beforehand that I have every intention what so ever of giving Mr. William my best and most long lasting impression. For it is the one that every person gets. I am in no way going to change my appearance or my self to please a man such as Sir William, who never cared peaches and cream about Miss Motly until one of her great uncles dropped dead and she got a rather large sum of money. Then as you know, he waited on her hand and foot. But she had enough hands and feet to go around, and didn't need his help. And so in conclusion to this ever so charming story, I leave a conclusion: I will not, in no way, represent myself to this man any differently than I would to you or anyone else."  
  
"Well then I truly fear for your safety you impertinent young thing."  
  
"Why, what safety is that aunt, have you already appointed him as my body guard?"  
  
"No no, girl. Do not be so cynical. It ruins the features."  
  
"Oh yes, my features, one of my highest recommendations for a marriage treaty with Mr. Whosits William." 


End file.
